


Warning Signs

by strawberryfinn



Category: Justin Bieber (Musician), One Direction (Band), X Factor RPF
Genre: Abusive Partner, Abusive Relationship, Angst, Assault, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Other, Sexual Assault, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:38:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryfinn/pseuds/strawberryfinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Niall starts dating Justin, Zayn thinks it might be just what Niall needs. Unfortunately, he’s wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warning Signs

**Author's Note:**

> This story does not reflect my sentiments on Justin Bieber at all. Someone asked me to write a Jiall story, but since Ziall is my OTP... this just kind of happened. I'd love to hear any constructive criticism/feedback. Thank you for reading! :) x

When Niall starts dating Justin, Zayn is happy for him. One, because Niall isn't in love with Zayn anymore, two, because Niall deserves to be happy, and three, because Selena Gomez is single now, and Zayn's always thought she was kinda hot.

He kind of sees it coming, to be honest. Niall's been talking to Justin a lot lately—they're always having secretive conversations at two in the morning to breach the time difference, Niall's glued to his phone, eyes lighting up whenever he gets a text from the Canadian popstar, and whenever they Skype, Niall turns a bright shade of pink and rushes off to his room and actually _locks_ the door.

Louis finds the whole thing hysterical, and has taken to playing Justin Bieber songs on repeat in the bus. He only stops when Harry slaps him upside the head after “Baby” plays for the fifth time in a row and Liam chastises him gently (“Lou, stop, you're embarrassing him. Niall, it's all good—we get... that Justin's _important_ to you.”)

So when Niall comes down to breakfast one day, cheeks flushed and eyes shining with joy, and opens his mouth to say, “Justin asked me to be his boyfriend,” Zayn slings an arm over the Irish boy's shoulders and smiles.

“Congrats, Nialler!” Zayn laughs, ruffling Niall's hair.

“I knew it!” crows Louis triumphantly. “Pay up, Haz!”

Harry looks disgruntled as he takes some crumpled bills out of his wallet and shoves them across the table to Louis.

“You guys _bet_ on my relationship prospects?” asks Niall, sounding horrified.

“Of course we did,” Louis says, matter-of-factly. “We tried to get Liam in on the bet too, but he said something about 'respecting your boundaries' and 'giving you privacy' and 'Louis you are the shittiest friend ever.'”

“You were always my favourite,” Niall chirps at Liam, and Liam pauses from where he's typing out a Tweet to glance at Niall.

“Congrats Niall,” Liam smiles gently, “you going out tonight then?”

“Yeah, Justin's in town, and he wants me to come over to his place for dinner.” Niall grins and the way his teeth glint is nearly blinding.

“He better treat you right,” Liam says, voice steady and firm, “or else One Direction's going to kick his ass.”

“Oh shut up,” Niall replies cheekily, but he laughs anyways, and Zayn thinks that things might start to be alright between them again.

“I'm serious,” Liam repeats, “I don't care who he is—he better treat you right.”

“Oh he will,” Niall snaps, a bit peeved, and Zayn rubs a hand between Niall's shoulderblades. “Justin's basically perfect.”

Zayn lets himself absorb the chatter around him, and thinks that Justin might just be what Niall needs.

He's wrong.

+

Justin's not touring right now, so he's taken the liberty to come out to England to spend some time with Niall. The One Direction boys are getting ready for their next tour, so rehearsal's started to pick up, but there's still plenty of time during the day and at night for the boys to hang out.

All of the boys adjust pretty well to Justin. Sure there's the whole conspiracy about the One Direction and Justin Bieber rivalry, but Justin's a pretty cool guy as far as Zayn's concerned. The boy's pretty, Zayn has to admit, with dark eyes and expressive eyebrows and rumpled hair that has that perfect look to it that Liam spends hours trying to perfect.

Also Justin loves Niall in the way that Zayn couldn't, so Zayn guesses he owes Justin one.

He walks into the dressing one day, and sees Niall and Justin practically eating each other's faces on the couch, and yeah, okay, so that's cool. Justin's hands are on Niall's small waist, slipping his shirt up to reveal several inches of pale skin, and Niall's rocking into the brunette's grasp, and it's not that Zayn's homophobic or anything, but he'd rather not see this, you know? He doesn't even like to see Liam and Danielle making out, and he's known Danielle for ages. 

Niall practically _moans_ and Zayn shudders.

“Get a room,” he laughs jokingly, and Niall breaks off from Justin hurriedly.

“Sorry, Z,” Niall says hurriedly, looking apologetic. He throws a secretive look to Justin, and the Canadian boy raises his hand in a small wave.

“Hey Zayn,” Justin greets. He wraps his hand around Niall's waist hard, possessively. “Just... uh... catching up with Niall.”

“I can see that,” Zayn says, brushing back some of his hair. “Maybe keep it down a little, huh?”

“You have a problem with me and Niall?” Justin snaps, a bit aggressively, and Zayn raises his hands in defense.

“No, not at all,” Zayn replies, “it's just... we have rehearsal soon. And try to stay away from his neck, huh?” He points at a hickey under Niall's chin. “Makeup's always yelling at us about that.”

“I'll do whatever I want,” Justin says heatedly, and Zayn is a bit taken aback because _what is his problem?_

“Justin, stop,” Niall breaks in gently, and to Zayn's relief, the anger seems to fade from Justin's eyes.

“Sorry, I'm just a bit short-tempered today.” Justin sounds sheepish, and Niall kisses his cheek.

“It's okay,” Niall coaxes, and Zayn forgets how weird Justin was acting before.

That's the first warning.

+

About two weeks after Niall announces his relationship with Justin, the blonde shows up to rehearsal half an hour late.

He's also limping.

“Sorry,” Niall mutters to the choreographers, who seem a bit pissed. “Spent the night at Justin's.”

By Justin's, he means the hotel room that he's been frequenting quite often. The fangirls on Tumblr and Twitter can attest to that, and Jiall and Nustin rumors are flying rampantly around, even though both Niall and Justin have denied them outright, determined to keep their relationship a secret.

Niall's limp doesn't go unnoticed.

“I see what happened, Niall,” Louis teases. “You rode him like a wild stallion, didn't you?”

Niall turns a deep shade of maroon, absolutely mortified.

“Lou, shut up.” Liam rushes immediately to Niall's defense. Harry's too busy cackling with laughter to evidently focus on anything other than breathing.

“Did you _chill by the fire while eating fondue?_ ” shrills Louis, as he bursts into sharp peals of laughter at his own joke.

“Oh fuck off,” Niall says, but he sounds more tired than anything.

Zayn spends the rest of rehearsal noticing how Niall winces every time he moves. Maybe Justin needs to be more gentle in the bedroom.

He makes a mental note to talk to Justin about that, because he knows Niall would never in a million years admit that he can't keep up with the other boy's obviously stupid sexual appetite, but later that day Harry gets locked outside of his flat and a crazed fangirl steals all of Harry's clothes. There's so much excitement, Zayn forgets to call Justin.

+

It's the bruises that make Zayn stop and think.

It's a rare occasion when Niall hangs out with the boys now other than rehearsal or band-related stuff, just because he's been spending so much time with Justin. But rehearsal let out early that day, and Louis had demanded that Niall spend some much-needed time with them “because you can have all your crazy monkey sex _late_ r Nialler, we just want to see you okay,” and they decide to go to Nando's.

Zayn and Niall are in line while Liam, Louis, and Harry have scouted a table.

“How are you doing?” Zayn asks easily, and Niall glances up at him. For some reason, Zayn thinks Niall's eyes are guarded, but the look flickers away after a second, making Zayn wonder if he ever saw anything at all.

“'M good,” Niall replies, but he sounds a bit hesitant, and Zayn doesn't get why.

He also doesn't get why Niall's wearing a long-sleeved shirt because it's basically hot enough to roast marshmallows in the air. It's only when Niall's grabbing some napkins from the dispenser that his sleeve slips up a little, and Zayn sees the ring of bruises on his arm.

“What the hell, Niall?” he demands, grabbing Niall's arm. “You alright?”

“'M fine,” Niall says defensively, “I just slipped yesterday.”

Zayn slides the sleeve of Niall's turquoise shirt further up his arm, his mouth twisting into a grim line when he sees more bruises. They're little and purple, but there's a lot of them, and Zayn's not content with Niall's vague answer.

“Niall, what happened? You get run over by a bulldozer?”

“Just leave it, okay, Zayn?” Niall practically hisses, ripping his arm out of Zayn's grip. “I'm _fine_ ,” he stresses, but he won't look Zayn in the eye.

“Ni-” Zayn starts, but Niall's already bounding off towards the rest of the boys. Niall purposefully situates himself in between Louis and Harry, away from Zayn's worried, prying eyes, and Zayn has to let himself brood moodily during the rest of their lunch.

Niall immediately gets chaperoned off back to Justin's hotel after giving the boys quick hugs goodbye. The other boys don't notice that he doesn't hug Zayn.

Zayn sits, wringing his hands in his lap.

Zayn's going to find out what's going on, and he's not going to take no for an answer.

+

Niall starts actually avoiding Zayn.

It's not just that he won't look Zayn in the eyes or talk to him—but he actually skirts away from Zayn, even when they're standing next to each other at rehearsal. During interviews, he sits as far as he can from the rest of the boys, still wearing those fucking long-sleeved shirts. He's constantly on his phone and whenever Liam asks him about Justin, he gives purposefully vague answers.

One day after a long rehearsal where Zayn's noticed Niall wince one too many a time, he snaps.

“Come with me,” he orders, grabbing Niall by the arm. He doesn't miss the way Niall flinches, and protests.

“Zayn, what are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Nialler. Why are you avoiding me?” Zayn pulls them both into a small room and locks the door. He knows Louis and Harry are in a spat upstairs and Liam is preoccupied trying to break it up, and that they won't be missed for awhile.

“I'm not,” Niall spits, his tone defensive.

Zayn looks him up and down, brown eyes cryptic. “Take off your shirt, Niall.”  
  
“Are you mental?” Niall’s voice is laced with disbelief, but Zayn can smell the flicker of fear.  
  
“Take off your shirt, Niall.” Zayn’s voice is low and firm—an order, and Niall bristles.  
  
“No, Zayn. You just can’t order me to strip.”  
  
“Take it off, Niall, or I’ll do it for you.” Zayn’s voice is still infuriatingly even, and Niall flinches.  
  
“Are you mental?”   
  
“Niall, I’m serious.”  
  
“No,” Niall spits defensively, wrapping his arms around his chest. “No. You can’t force me to do anything-”  
  
“Is that what you told Justin?” Zayn replies, not missing a beat, and Niall shatters.

+

Whatever Zayn had been expecting, this is worse. This is so much worse.  
  
He’s seen the bruises before, but not so bloody, not so vivid. The fingerprints gripped so hard they bruise purple, prominent against Niall’s canvas of pale skin. Scratches on the surface of his back, red at the edges of his hips.  
  
A reddish mark on his stomach, yellow-green cousins around it, indicating that this wasn’t a one time ordeal.  
  
“Pants,” Zayn instructs quietly, heart pounding with dread, mouth full of nausea.  
  
Niall doesn’t even protest this time. He just closes his eyes as he pulls off his shoes and unzips his khaki trousers.  
  
Zayn swallows, willing himself not to speak out when he sees the state of Niall’s legs and hips at the ridges of his boxers. More fingermarks, bruises, painting a clear picture even with Niall’s soundless state. Assault. _Rape._  
  
“Jesus Christ, Ni,” Zayn whispers, voice panicked and hurt. “Fucking hell, how long’s this been going on?”  
  
“What?” Niall’s voice is sharp. Defensive.  
  
“Justin. How long has your _boyfriend_ been hurting you?” The word “boyfriend” lodges in his throat, refusing to budge.  
  
“It’s not what you think, okay?”  
  
“So he’s not hurting you?”  
  
“No, Zayn, stop being ridiculous-”  
  
“I’m being ridiculous? There are bruises all over your body, Niall! How could you not tell us about this-”  
  
“He loves me, okay, Z? You didn’t care about me before, why do you suddenly care now-”  
  
“Niall, I’m your friend, okay. I’m sorry I didn’t like you like _that_ , but fucking hell, if you think I’m going to let him get away with treating you like this, you-”  
  
“Stay out of it,” Niall hisses, venomous. “Justin loves me, ‘k? More than you ever could.”  
  
He pulls up his pants and shrugs on his shirt, and he’s out the door, leaving a ball of dread in Zayn’s stomach.

+

  


“Justin's abusing Niall,” Zayn says, his voice flat, right when Liam opens the door of his flat.  
  
“What?” Liam asks, completely bewildered.  
  
“Justin. Is. Abusing. Niall.” Zayn makes sure to place enough space between his words and emphasizes them, making sure each one is properly pronounced.  
  
“Are you mental?” Liam replies, forehead wrinkled in confusion.  
  
“No,” Zayn says, slightly pissed off. He grabs at his quiff, tugging on the black and blonde strands in frustration. “Why would I lie about this, Liam?”  
  
“Well you can't just come out and say that,” Liam reasons logically, “you need evidence, Zayn, I-”  
  
“Niall has bruises all over his fucking chest,” Zayn bites back, a bit angry, because why doesn't Liam believe him? “And on his legs too—Justin's abusing him, Liam, and we need to do something about this.”  
  
“Maybe they just have... rough sex,” Liam chooses the words carefully and they look like they taste sour in his mouth.  
  
“Rough enough to leave rings of bruises on every inch of his body?” Zayn argues, voice heightening in pitch.  
  
“Zayn, Niall would tell us if he was being hurt.” Liam's tone is steadfast, infuriatingly even.  
  
“Fuck you, Payne,” Zayn spits, and he gets up and leaves.

+

When Niall doesn't show up for rehearsal, Zayn's chest fills immediately with dread.  
  
“Where's Niall?” Harry asks, at the same time Louis says, “Jesus, that Justin is a demanding bastard.”  
  
At the mention of Justin, Zayn freezes and throws a warning look at Liam.  
  
“Come on,” Zayn says brusquely, and Liam is following him. Harry and Louis exchange confused looks, but they're soon hot on Liam's heels.

+

They get to Niall's flat in record time—partly because Zayn is driving like a deranged madman. (Liam tries to get him to be reasonable, but to no avail. Even Harry looks shaken, and that's saying something because Louis drives as quickly as a cheetah chasing its prey).  
  
Zayn slips in the spare key—the one that everyone's got to each other's flats (they've all made keys for each other's flats... it's a bit sickly adorable, but whatever, okay?) to open the door to a completely empty flat.  
  
“No one's here,” Liam says, “we should check Justin's hotel.”  
  
But Zayn is already running, nearly tripping over his legs, towards the closet with the chair propped up against it—locking it from the outside.  
  
Liam sees where Zayn's heading and pales considerably. “God no.”  
  
Harry gets to the closet at the same time that Zayn does, and as Zayn throws the chair out of the way, he flings open the closet doors to see a small body curled up on the floor.  
  
“What the fuck,” Louis is repeating, over and over, but Zayn can't focus on listening to him because he's already getting down onto the floor, knees pressed against the carpet as he shoves the shirts that hinder his vision out of the way. Harry's reaching for Niall's wrist to check for a pulse, and sighs in relief when he finds it.  
  
The closet isn't small—it's pretty big and it needs to be to fit all of Niall's supras and polos and trousers; it has a full length mirror, for God's sakes—but it's still a fucking closet and Niall shouldn't be in it and Zayn would feel a lot better about this situation if Niall was getting up and asking them all what the hell they were doing.  
  
“Niall,” Zayn says gently, and the blonde cracks open an eye.  
  
“Zayn,” Niall replies, voice full of resignation. He doesn't sound scared or sad or anything—he's just _there._  
  
“What happened?” Liam demands, and he throws a warning look at Louis who's still cycling through “what the fuck.”  
  
“Whaddya mean?” Niall asks, a shuddering breath hacking its way through his body.  
  
“You normally hang out in closets, Nialler?” Zayn inquires, his voice a little more vicious than intended. “What did Justin do to you?"  
  
Niall closes his eyes, looking impossibly tired. “Nothing.”  
  
“Somehow I'm not buying that,” Zayn says, trying to keep his voice steady. “Why don't you try another answer?”  
  
Niall's chest constricts, and he's wheezing hoarsley.  
  
“Niall, breathe,” Harry coaxes, rubbing his hands on Niall's shoulders, but the blonde is in full-blown panic.  
  
Niall's fingers are clawlike, grasping out desperately, and Harry squeezes his hand hard. Louis runs and grabs a brown paper bag, and hands it to Niall to breathe into, and they wait as Niall tries to calm himself down.  
  
“You're okay, we're here,” soothes Liam. “Just slow, deep breaths, Niall.”  
  
When Niall finally manages to get some semblance of control over his breathing, he looks at them with weary eyes.  
  
“What happened?” Zayn tries again, and Niall clams up.  
  
“I was late. He... was impatient,” Niall offers lamely.  
  
“How long have you been in here?”  
  
Niall searches his mind. “We fought at one last night.”  
  
Zayn checks his watch. “Niall, it's twelve noon now—you've been in here for almost half a day? Why didn't you call one of us?”  
  
“Phone was dead.” Niall won't meet Zayn's eyes.  
  
“You could have yelled-”  
  
“The walls are really thick. I fell asleep. Normally-” Niall breaks off, realizing he's made a mistake.  
  
“ _Normally?_ ” Louis breathes heavily, and Niall quickly tries to correct his revelation.  
  
“Normally _when we fight_ , he comes back after an hour or so. Never this long.” Niall shrugs, and Zayn wonders when he got so small. “He's never left me alone this long before.”  
  
Zayn's mind flashes to how nervous and anxious Niall gets when they're surrounded and bombarded with overeager fans. He thinks about Niall's claustrophobia and he thinks about how long he must have been in this closet, and he thinks he's going to murder Justin Bieber.  
  
“Why didn't you say anything?” Harry implores, wringing his hands, looking at Niall in disbelief.  
  
Niall shrugs half-heartedly. “He loves me.”  
  
“He doesn't love you, Niall. What the fuck were you thinking?” Louis spits in exasperation, his face nearly red with fury. “People who love you don't hurt you like this.”  
  
Niall curls up into himself, and Zayn hears every word he doesn't say. _But if he doesn't love me, who will?_  
  
“You're leaving with us,” Liam says abruptly, cutting Louis short before Niall can cry.  
  
“No, I-”  
  
“You want to wait until he comes back? We'll beat the shit out of him right now,” Harry counters, and Niall falls silent.  
  
“He can stay at my place,” Zayn offers, and Liam gives him a half-hearted smile.  
  
“You'll stay with Zayn,” Liam states, and it's decided.

+

They each leave personalized messages on Justin's voicemail.  
  
“Relationships are supposed to be based on mutual trust and respect and _love._ How dare you hurt him? Did you do this with Selena? We came and got Niall—and I swear Justin, if you get close to him again, it's not going to be pretty. This is Liam Payne in case you were wondering—and on that note, you should know that I'm quite capable of snapping your neck with my bare hands.”  
  
“You come near our little leprechaun again and I will fucking murder you, you understand. I know I may seem sassy and flamboyant and frankly adorable, but you mess with my boy, and you've realized the power of Doncaster on you, understand Bieber?”  
  
“Hey... Justin... this is Harry. I'm... what... you did is not... okay in the slightest... Seriously... this isn't okay. We've got... him now and you're not allowed to... see him okay? Seriously, Justin, we're calling management... we're going to file a restraining order... and boost security. I personally... will make sure... you never... touch one hair... on his head... again.”  
  
“This is Zayn. What the fuck is wrong with you? You're a sick son-of-a-bitch, okay, and you're lucky I wasn't there for you hurting Niall or else you'd be about ten feet under now. He's been through enough shit, and he definitely doesn't deserve to be your punching bag. He's so much better than you—go to hell, you sick fuck. If you show your ugly mug around here again, I will castrate you, you understand?”

+

Zayn makes dinner for Niall, and he's a bit unnerved at how quiet Niall is. Every movement sends another spark of pain through Niall's body, and Zayn wants to hold him and reassure him that he's safe and he's okay and they're going to protect him.  
  
It rolls around to midnight, and Niall's yawning, and looking uncertainly at the couch.  
  
“You're bunking with me tonight,” Zayn says, and it's not a request, it's an order.  
  
Niall's shoulders slump in defeat, but he looks considerably calmer.  
  
“Okay,” he says, eyes shining with unshed tears.  
  
Niall clambers into Zayn's bed, and nestles himself under the sheets, cocooning himself in safety. Niall cries himself to sleep, teartracks drying on his face, and Zayn rubs small circles on his back, being careful to avoid places where there's bruising. Zayn slings an arm over Niall's waist, wishing he could will all the pain away.  
  
But he can't, so he settles for waking up early to make Niall a breakfast that would make even Jamie Oliver proud.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Jamie Oliver is a famous British chef so I hope that reference wasn't lost on too many people. x


End file.
